


Striptease

by athena_crikey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Kinks, Smut, happy valentine's day, nothing to do with Valentine's Day, striptease fundraiser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 04:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22705078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athena_crikey/pseuds/athena_crikey
Summary: “Hey,” says Yuu suddenly, looking up. “I forgot to mention, but I agreed to help Suga-san with his community team fundraiser. Hinata’s in too.”“Good idea; he was really worried about funds for gym rentals and equipment. What are you doing? Silent auction? Bake sale?”“Nope. Strip show!”Asahi spits out his coffee.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 257





	Striptease

Asahi is ordinary. He has an ordinary apartment in Tokyo, an ordinary job, and an ordinary cat. 

The one extraordinary thing in his life is his boyfriend, Nishinoya Yuu. Yuu goes through life like a short, feisty firecracker, exploding thoughts, feelings and ideas straight into people’s brains. He has an amazing quality of living life on full throttle, such that pictures can’t capture his essence – only a high-definition video stream has any hope of it. Which is probably why Asahi and Yuu communicate through snapchat an inordinate amount. 

This morning is an ordinary one like any other. Asahi’s sitting at the table drinking coffee while Yuu texts someone. 

“Hey,” says Yuu suddenly, looking up. “I forgot to mention, but I agreed to help Suga-san with his community team fundraiser. Hinata’s in too.”

“Good idea; he was really worried about funds for gym rentals and equipment. What are you doing? Silent auction? Bake sale?”

“Nope. Strip show!”

Asahi spits out his coffee. “W-What?”

Yuu grins. “Awesome, right? It was Hinata’s idea; his uni team gets up to some pretty wild stuff on the weekends. And you know Suga-san, always up for a good time.”

“But… you… isn’t it _embarrassing?_ ” he asks, lost for words. It was almost a year before he wasn’t embarrassed to strip for Yuu. The idea of stripping for an audience… he swallows dizzily. 

“Knowing me, do you really have to ask?” replies Yuu, smiling wickedly, and Asahi thinks that no, he doesn’t. This sounds right up Yuu’s alley. “I’ve already promised you’ll buy a ticket. You will, right?” The libero says it like it’s a foregone conclusion. 

“To see you, Hinata and Suga strip,” he says, faintly.

“To _support volleyball_ ,” replies Yuu. “And because my ass is hot as fuck.”

He’s not wrong. Asahi sighs. “I’ll go. But it’s not going to be just me and a sea of Suga’s fans, is it?”

“Nah. Daichi and Kageyama’ll be there too.”

Asahi considers that. Considers sitting in some dingy bar somewhere between his two friends – one a cop, the other one of the scariest kouhai he’s ever had – watching their lovers strip. “Um,” he says. His mind is absolutely blank, probably because it is too terrified to fill the void. 

“You’ll have a great time! Gotta go, gonna be late for class.” Yuu jumps up, shoves his phone in his pocket, and disappears. “Oh, by the way,” he adds, poking his head back around the door, “you probably want to change that shirt.”

Asahi looks down. His red shirt is splattered with coffee stains.

  
***

Yuu’s naturally athletic. He’s also naturally _loud_ , at least off the court, and so when he starts having practice sessions with Hinata and Suga over face time, Asahi is treated to the muffled sounds of him shouting, laughing, and occasionally thumping into the wall while music with a heavy bass thrums in the background. Occasionally Asahi can hear Hinata cheering them on.

He practices in their bedroom, both Asahi and Ranran the cat temporarily locked out. There’s not a lot of space in there; their apartment is a small 1 bedroom and the bedroom is almost entirely taken up by the bed. Asahi hopes he’s not practicing _on_ the bed; the springs probably can’t take it. Although they have taken a lot…

Asahi shakes his head and tries to concentrate on the list of fabric sources he’s been asked to review, annotating and adding new ones to the lengthy spreadsheet. His label is a small one, just one of many up-and-coming designers shoehorned into Asakusa’s garment district; finding bargains is a talent expected of him as the most junior designer. 

“Yeah, shake it Suga-san!” shouts Yuu, words clear despite the wall separating them. Asahi, feeling faint, decides that maybe he’ll work on the balcony today.

  
***

“I bet you’re dying to see us,” says Yuu as the weekend of their trip home to Miyagi – easier to think of it that way, rather than _Yuu’s striptease_ – approaches. “I bet you’re hot for it while I’m practicing.”

“You sound like a toddler on a trampoline in the middle of a rave in there,” replies Asahi, petting Ranran. She’s curled on his lap, clearly better pleased now that the irregular thumping in the bedroom has stopped. “It’s _loud_ but it’s not arousing.” Not unless he lets his imagination get involved, and he’s been keeping it firmly leashed. 

Yuu sticks out his tongue. “You’ll see. We’ve got _moves_. Hinata’s been watching _videos_. _Explicit_ videos,” he adds.

 _God help us all_ , thinks Asahi as Yuu leans in to rub Ranran’s ears. He’s fresh out of the shower after volleyball practice, smells of citrus and soap, his skin still pink from the heat. “Yuu,” he says hungrily, voice gruff.

Yuu glances up, amber eyes bright. “You _are_ hot for it,” he says with a wild grin. He kisses the top of Ranran’s head, then leans in and kisses Asahi on the lips. 

“I’m not,” replies Asahi with as much calm as he can muster when they break apart. 

“Good. Then you can stand the wait to see it.” Yuu waggles his eyebrows and throws himself down on the sofa beside Asahi, switching on the TV. 

“I guess so,” says Asahi helplessly, because _I could stand never seeing it_ doesn’t seem to be an option.

And also, if he’s honest, because he’s just a _tiny_ bit curious.

  
***

They go up over winter break, Yuu receiving permission to skip two team practices; he’s otherwise between class assignments. He’s working harder than ever in his last year of university, struggling to get through his academic work while maintaining his skills on the court. As always, volleyball takes precedence. It’s not the end of the school year yet but the scouts are already out looking for fresh blood for Japan’s pro teams.

As always, Yuu’s an absolutely phenomenal libero. First string, no holds barred. He’s going to go pro; it’s not a matter of if but when. He can afford to rest on his laurels just a little, can afford a few days off. 

They take the shinkansen to Sendai, then the bus up to Karasunomachi. There’s snow on the ground and a crisp chill to the air that forecasts more of it, icicles hanging on eavestroughs and puddles frozen hard. 

They check into their hotel room and dump their stuff. It’s still early though so they stop by Asahi’s house to see his folks, where after extreme pressure they relent and are served bottomless tea and a tower of mikans. They won’t be up for New Year’s so Asahi leaves behind gifts for his nieces and nephews. It’s the first year he’s been able to actually afford them, hasn’t had to dip into a loan to provide the expected amount.

When it gets dark they head out, Yuu with a duffle filled with God knows what, Asahi with just his coat and the tickets. There’s only one proper bar in Karasunomachi with a stage, and that’s where they’re heading.

Asahi wasn’t old enough to drink while living at home; as such he’s never actually been in the bar. It’s surprisingly roomy, packed with scarred wooden tables and with a step-up stage at the far end complete with a piano and speakers screwed into the walls for karaoke. When Yuu and Asahi arrive some local boys are trying to lift the piano off the stage; Asahi hurries over to help while Yuu disappears. 

When they’ve safely gotten the piano onto the bar floor Asahi turns to see Daichi arriving on his own. He looks good; steady. Life as a small-town cop is clearly suiting him. He spots Asahi and waves, drifting across the slowly-filling bar. They embrace, then get out of the way as other members of Suga’s community team start filing onto the stage to set up a curtained corner and tape posters to the walls. 

“You’re doing okay?” asks Asahi as they cross to one of the posters. Perhaps not surprisingly the evening isn’t advertised as Former Karasuno High School Boys’ Volleyball Team Strip Show, but instead as an Evening of Entertainment In Support of Karasuno Neighbourhood Association Volleyball. 

“Good. We’re… really good. It sounds boring, but we’ve hit a rhythm. Suga loves teaching; he’s so proud of his kids, even the ones who struggle – he always finds the good in each of them. The Force treats me well; I think it’s a good fit. Feels right.” He runs a hand through his short hair. He’s kept his form; even with his coat on Asahi can tell his build is still strong, his back upright. “How are you and Noya? It’s his last year… must be busy.”

“It is,” admits Asahi. “He’s waiting to be scouted; I think it’ll happen soon. I’m so glad he was able to keep going – you know he had that knee injury last year, and the thought of him having to give it up…” it still makes Asahi’s heart clench. 

Daichi reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. “He got through it. You got him through it.” He’s just as reassuring as he was in high school. 

Asahi nods. “Yeah. Well. And now we’re here…” he looks up at the stage and laughs awkwardly. “You know they’ve been practicing.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know… what?” probes Asahi, carefully, trying to prepare himself.

“Nope. But I think we’re going to find out.”

He’s about to answer that when an orange-haired missile flies in from outside. “ _Daichi-san! Asahi-san!_ ” Hinata throws himself on them, and despite the fact that they both outweigh him by nearly 50 kilos, they stagger under his momentum. 

Behind him Kageyama saunters in. To an outsider, Asahi thinks he would look the epitome of cool – absolutely calm and collected. But Asahi’s been to Inter-Highs and Qualifiers and Nationals with Kageyama, has spent a year on an emotional roller-coaster with him; he knows when the setter is wigging out.

And boy, is he wigging out. 

“Gotta go,” says Hinata almost immediately. “Suga-san wants us to rendezvous. We’ve gotta practice in person! Talk amongst yourselves,” he adds with a generous grin, and runs off. 

“Um,” says Asahi. “This…”

“Was _not_ my idea,” says Kageyama, fiercely. 

“No one thinks it was,” replies Daichi calmingly, shepherding them away from the poster on the wall and to a table near the stage. “It’s just one act in the show, you know. It’s not the whole evening. We’ll be able to enjoy ourselves.”

At that Asahi relaxes a little. 

“With lots of alcohol,” prompts Kageyama, glancing at the bar. Limited selection, but they’ll have plenty shochu if worst comes to worst. 

“God, yes,” says Asahi, taking a seat. 

“And until then, we can catch up. I’ll go get us some beers.”

Beers sound good. Start out light. He turns to Kageyama. “So… how’re you and Hinata?”

  
***

People start filing in about fifteen minutes later and a young woman comes around to take tickets. She’s the girlfriend of one of Suga’s teammates, is helping to support the event with some other young women.

The audience, Asahi can’t help but notice, is predominantly young women. Come for the karaoke, stay for the striptease? He wonders. Nearly all the tables are full, and the bar is crowded as well. Good turn out; good for the team. The bar staff are winding between tables taking and filling orders. Asahi’s already on his second beer and is starting to feel more mellow. It’s a community event, and while Hinata and Yuu are unpredictable Suga has good common sense. He teaches elementary school students, for God’s sake. It won’t be anything too raunchy. 

Probably. 

The team captain, a young man named Tarou, gets up to the mic and introduces the team. Suga comes out along with the others, all looking perfectly normal. Good. Tarou explains the community appeal for funding; booking gym space requires fees, and the community nets and balls are in bad shape. The tickets for the night have already met 75% of the need, and he asks for further donations to cover the rest. 

The team bow and most of them file off the stage. The remaining ones pick up two acoustic guitars and start into a country music set; low-key and mellow. There are bright halogen lights mounted just in front of the stage that act almost as spotlights, throwing the stage into white relief while the rest of the bar is in semi-darkness. Asahi finds himself tapping his foot to the music. Beside him Kageyama is looming over his beer, looking dire. 

“Cheer up,” Asahi says. Kageyama glares at him and he leans away. “…or not…”

“Hate country music,” he says. “Hate charity appeals. Hate fucking _striptease_.”

“It’s for a good cause,” says Daichi, and holds up his hand to order Kageyama another drink.

  
***

Country music is followed by two sets of karaoke, both of reasonable quality, and then there’s an intermission while the players make rounds with hats collecting tips; Asahi pulls out his wallet and peels out a couple of 1,000 yen bills.

An electric keyboard has been set up during the intermission, and a young man with spikes in his hair plays several piano nocturns by Chopin with a remarkable degree of skill, blushing like mad the whole time. At the end he bows stiffly, grabs his keyboard, and stalks off stage. After him there’s more karaoke, and a limping magic act. 

It’s during the magic act that Asahi notices Suga, Hinata and Yuu sneaking up onto the stage and sequestering themselves behind the curtain that’s been hung up in the corner. Kageyama’s glowering into his beer and doesn’t appear to have noticed, but Daichi’s sitting up straighter now – good cop instincts. 

The team captain comes back onstage. “I’m pleased to announce that thanks to your generosity, we’ve met 95% of our target for the night. Our players will be coming back out once more, and I ask you to give generously. After that, we will have the final act of the night.”

The lights get brighter on the floor as the players come around; Daichi shills out this time, Kageyama still looking surly and Asahi worried about next month’s food bill – Yuu has the appetite of two teenage boys. When the players are done with the collection they disappear to the back of the room and the lights go down again.

Asahi feels his stomach clench.

Then, the music starts. It’s a brassy, raucous sound, up-beat and overblown. It would be almost hilarious, except that at that moment Suga emerges from behind the curtain and marches to the front of the stage.

He’s wearing a policeman’s uniform.

Asahi glances to his right and sees Daichi choking slightly. Suga snaps to attention at the front of the stage and salutes. 

It’s not a real uniform of course. For one thing it’s too tight; it reveals Suga’s broad shoulders and narrow hips, the curve of his thighs and the long taper of his calves. Asahi’s trained eye reveals the belt and handcuffs as cheap costume stuff, the fabric of the uniform too thin. 

But fuck, it looks good. 

While Suga holds his pose there’s a second blare to the music and Hinata comes sauntering out, hands in the pockets of a well-fitted suit. The tie is orange and matches his hair; there’s even an orange pocket square. The suit is well-tailored and accentuates his athletic body; it’s tight at his hips and ass and broad across his shoulders. He takes his place to Suga’s right and juts out one hip, arm akimbo. 

Asahi’s never seen him in a suit before. Never even _imagined_ him in a suit before. It seems the antithesis of everything Hinata stands for. 

But it fits him like a glove. Kageyama’s staring, eyes wide and shocked. Hinata, although he doubtless can’t see anything with the lights glaring in his eyes, is grinning like anything.

There’s a third brassy crescendo and a figure in a black tracksuit comes striding out. Yuu, all 165 centimeters of him, absolutely dominates the stage as he struts up to the front and then, all eyes on him, swivels to show the audience his back. His right hand arches upwards to thumb at the kanji emblazoned there.

_Karasuno High School Volleyball Club._

He’s wearing his team uniform. 

His _high school_ team uniform. 

That’s it. They’re all going to hell. There is simply no other option here. 

“Breathe, Asahi,” whispers Daichi beside him. 

There’s a snare beat and on the stage all three men break out of their poses. Suga snaps his handcuffs off his belt and spins them around his finger; Hinata begins working his tie loose; Yuu looks over his shoulder with such a wicked look in his eye that Asahi shivers. He turns and starts unzipping his jacket, his bright orange libero’s uniform peeking out from beneath. 

It probably shouldn’t be hot. Yuu bled and sweat and puked on that uniform, pushed his body to the ugly limits of endurance and beyond in it. More than that, it brings Asahi back to a time when Yuu was very much his kouhai, despite being about a hundred times more confident and out-going than Asahi was. 

But the truth of it is, Asahi fell for Yuu in high school, fell like a bird struck by goddamn lightning. Yuu electrified him, made him yearn, made him _want_ in a way no one else did. It had been his dirty little fantasy for two years until they met up at a random reunion in Karasunomachi and ended up trying to kiss each other senseless. 

Seeing Yuu like this, back abruptly in a time and place when Asahi had been so full of need and so utterly unable to do anything about it, is torture. 

He has a feeling that Yuu, the bastard, is 100% aware of it. 

On stage Yuu shrugs out of his jacket as Hinata pulls off his tie. They both throw them behind them; Suga re-attaches his cuffs to his belt and, in one rapid movement, rips his own tie off and flings it behind him. 

They’re none of them what Asahi would consider accomplish dancers, but they’ve got rhythm, natural athleticism, and incredibly fit bodies. As they sway their shoulders and hips to the music it’s really very sexy. The audience is getting into it, hollering and applauding. 

The shirts are next, and Asahi spares a glance at Kageyama to make sure he hasn’t had a seizure yet. The setter is sitting with his hands gripping the edge of the table tight, his back so taut it could bounce coins. Asahi glances back at the action and sees Hinata’s playing with the buttons of his shirt, grinning wildly. 

Yuu is running his hands up his sides, fingers sliding over his toned abs and slowly pushing the orange shirt higher, revealing more and more flesh. He pauses to pull at the collar as if hot – as if turned on by his own act – his smile wild and toothy. As Suga and Hinata pull their shirts open he pushes his all the way up, revealing pert dusky nipples and the soft down of his underarm hair. Then he’s pulling it off, hair ruffled as it goes by, and tossing it behind him in time with Hinata and Suga. 

Both Suga and Hinata are wearing pants – Yuu, he knows, is wearing both pants and shorts. He wonders briefly how this will be dealt with before, with a sharp attack from the music, Yuu reaches down and simply rips the track pants off. Snaps burst open along both seams and Yuu turns to gently toss the pants behind him, wiggling his ass as he does so. He reaches back and grabs his cheeks, turning his head over his shoulder once more and grinning. 

Asahi feels like his throat is closing up. Like his face is on fire. He’s half embarrassed and half aroused, sandwiched in between Daichi who seems to be loosening up and Kageyama who’s tense as piano wire. 

“Shots,” says Daichi in his ear, and raises his hand to call a waiter. 

Shots, thinks Asahi, are exactly what this night does not need. But also, strangely, exactly what it does. 

They arrive as Yuu starts working his hands down inside the elasticised waistband of his shorts, shorts which are already too tight on him – he _has_ grown since high school, just not much. He lifts them with the back of his hand to show the hollows of his hips, the black line of his underwear. Runs his fingers down low, throwing his head back in heady delight. 

Asahi grabs the shot and downs it, then raises his glass for another. 

The other two have stripped off their belts and opened their pants, are pushing the waistbands down over their asses, rocking their hips as they move. Asahi can’t stop staring at Yuu’s hips, at the way he’s thrusting them. Then they’re pushing their pants down, down, down and stepping out of them, and all of the sudden it’s the three of them on the stage in just their underwear. They’re all wearing cotton boxer-briefs; skin-tight and very revealing. 

Kageyama makes a low, unidentifiable sound in the back of his throat. Asahi can’t tear his eyes away from Yuu to check on him, can only hope Daichi will do something if Kageyama is, in fact, dying. 

Yuu’s raised his hands to his head, is smoothing back his hair as he thrusts his hips. Hinata’s shaking his ass like a wild thing; Suga’s got a slow, sweet rhythm going. He can’t watch the other two anymore, feels utterly embarrassed even though he knows they _chose_ to do this, knows they’re _enjoying_ this. 

He only has eyes for Yuu. Yuu who’s scanning the audience and who, Asahi thinks in his heart of hearts, is looking for him. He runs his hands down his chest, smiling wolfishly when he thumbs over his nipples, and slows as he goes lower. His hands brush down over his hips, and his thumbs slip under the waistband of his underwear, turning the elastic inside-out to show an extra centimeter of flesh. 

Even in the bright light, his eyes seem to meet Asahi’s, all passion and spice. 

Asahi downs the second shot. 

Then the music is crescendoing, brass peaking. Hinata straightens, gives Suga a double high-five, and backflips backwards before disappearing behind the curtain. Yuu turns 180, seems for an instant to be falling forward, and then tumbles into a forward-roll – Asahi’s almost surprised he doesn’t shout _rolling thunder!_ He pops up at the back of the stage and disappears behind the curtain.

Suga, smiling slyly, straightens once more. He salutes the audience as the brass blow their final note, cymbals ringing. Then the lights go out, leaving the stage in darkness.

The women in the audience break into one long scream, howling and applauding. Asahi takes a shaky breath and sits back in his chair. Daichi is applauding, an amused smile on his lips. Kageyama looks like he might yet have an aneurism. 

“I think it’s over, Kageyama,” says Asahi kindly, patting him on the arm. 

“That _little bastard_ ,” says Kageyama. But from the tone in which he says it Asahi is suddenly glad that Kageyama and Hinata are staying with Daichi and Suga tonight rather than in the hotel with them. He’s hosted them before and knows from experience that they have no noise restraint in the bedroom. 

The lights come up and the three of them come out dressed hurriedly in only their pants, scooping up items of clothing and taking bows. The team members are hurriedly instructed to make another pass through the audience, which by now is both drunk and very generous. 

Then it’s time to pay and go. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow at our place,” says Daichi, standing and pulling on his coat as Suga stalks through the audience dressed once more in his cop’s uniform but without belt and tie. Daichi pulls his lover into a one-arm hug, Suga snickering quietly when he nearly misses. Hinata follows, also without his tie, and gets a noogie from Kageyama. 

(“Hey!”

“Pick up your goddamn tie.”)

Asahi is paying the waitress when Yuu appears, swaddled in his coat such that Asahi can’t be sure that he’s wearing his team uniform. But he thinks he is. Face hot, he smiles. “You were great. Really great. Really,” he says, aware that the drinks are starting to hit him. 

“You totally wanted me,” grins Yuu.

“Very definitely,” agrees Asahi sedately; Yuu punches him in the arm.

“You’re chill-drunk,” he accuses. “Couldn’t stay sober for my performance?”

“No,” replies Asahi. “Can we go?”

“Can’t wait to get me alone?”

Asahi just looks at him helplessly. Yuu laughs and grabs his hand. “Alright, c’mon. Suga-san, we’ll see you tomorrow. I’ve gotta take this big drunk hunk home.”

Suga and Daichi and Hinata wave; Kageyama bobs his head. Then they’re out of the bar and into the freezing chill. Yuu presses in against his side. 

“Did you really like it?” he asks. 

Asahi considers. “Yes,” he says. “Except…”

“Except?”

“Not in public.”

“Are you saying you want a private viewing?” asks Yuu, looking up with shining eyes. Asahi swallows, throat tight. “You _are_. Well, let’s go then!”

And he tows Asahi out into the freezing night.

  
***

The hotel fortunately is only three blocks away; they’re both frigid by the time they get there – winter in Tokyo is so much more mild than winter in Miyagi, and in the past five years Asahi’s deacclimatized.

It doesn’t really matter though, because the moment they push into their room Yuu’s putting Asahi’s fingers in his mouth and sucking on them. His tongue is soft against the pads of Asahi’s fingers, his mouth hot and wet. He’s watching Asahi as he does it, eyes playful. Asahi tries to steady his breathing but really he _is_ drunk and it’s hard to exert much control. His cock is already twitching at the sight of Yuu taking his fingers into his mouth, licking along their length and swallowing. 

“What about the show?” asks Asahi shakily, and the corners of Yuu’s lips draw upwards. He pulls away, spinning and unzipping his coat. 

“I thought you’d never ask! Take a seat,” he says, motioning at the end of the bed. Asahi does, sinking down on the polyester cover, the mattress firm beneath him. 

Yuu throws his coat into the entryway then toes off his shoes, leaving him in, as Asahi suspected, his track suit. He turns, looking over his shoulder once more, gaze heavy. “You like this, don’t you Asahi-san?” he asks, thumbing at the writing on the back.

Asahi swallows. 

“Makes you hot for me, doesn’t it? You think I didn’t see the way you used to look at me? You think I didn’t know what you wanted to do with me? Did you used to think about it at night? Did you touch yourself and think of me?” He’s working his jacket off, unzipping it and then letting it slide down his strong arms. 

“Yuu… we were kids…”

“We were horny teenagers. You think I didn’t want you? I used to imagine you touching me with those big hands of yours, used to think about your fingers up my ass, your huge dick up my ass…” He drops the jacket and smiles sharply, running his hands down over the orange jersey, flattening it to his chest. He reaches down and rips the track pants off, tosses them away too. 

Leaving him in just his uniform. Asahi reaches out for him, suddenly hungry, and Yuu smiles and sidles forward, perching on his lap. He bends down and kisses Asahi, tongue sliding into Asahi’s mouth and along his tongue, his hips grinding forward. Asahi runs his hands over the smooth satin-like polyester, bunching it under his palms, feeling it stretch and give. 

The alcohol in his system gives the whole experience a dream-like tint, a sense of surrealism that makes him groan as Yuu grinds his hips against Asahi’s. This could almost be them five years ago, almost be the December before Nationals when all he could think about was wanting Yuu in his arms, in his bed. Fuck, he’s hard and growing harder still, so lost in the dream, lost in the desire for a fulfilment that didn’t come – not then, at least. 

Then Yuu’s squirming away; he makes a disappointed sound and Yuu clicks his tongue. “Not done yet,” he says. Asahi watches, panting, as he slips his hands under his jersey and pushes it upwards. His torso is toned from years of working out, is flat and hard and hot as hell. He keeps his eyes firmly on Asahi as he pushes it up, orange material bunching together beneath his hands, Yuu stripping for him and only him. 

He swallows as Yuu pushes the shirt over his head leaving him naked from the waist up; Yuu’s smiling bewitchingly, is _teasing_ as he runs his hands down his chest, over his pecs, tweaking his nipples until they pinken, his breath coming faster. Then he’s running his hands back down his torso, slipping them beneath the waistline of his shorts. 

He had kept it relatively innocent on the stage; now, in the hotel room, he runs his hand over his swelling cock, strokes himself beneath the orange polyester, head tilting backwards. 

“Yuu,” breathes Asahi, lost in his beauty, in the image of his lover touching himself in his old uniform, in years of daydreams and fantasies. Yuu’s hand moves with a steady rhythm as he jerks himself off, and Asahi wonders if he’s done this before – if blood and sweat and vomit aren’t the only things that uniform is stained with. “Fuck,” he mutters, and reaches down to touch his aching cock. 

Quick as lightning Yuu pushes down his shorts and, in just his underwear, returns to Asahi. “Uh uh,” he says. “That’s my job.” He gets down on his knees between Asahi’s legs and unbuttons his cords, slipping a hand inside. Asahi half-rises, allowing Yuu to push down both his pants and underwear, leaving him sitting exposed. Yuu makes a pleased noise and leans in, pressing kisses up the length of Asahi’s toned thighs. 

Asahi still plays on a community team like Suga. Tries to keep in shape, partially for himself but also for Yuu. Because he couldn’t bear the thought of Yuu having to sleep with an old flabby lover while he’s so strong and fit. Yuu pushes his thighs further apart and then, as Asahi watches, bobs his head in to stroke his tongue over the slit of his cock and then take the head in his mouth. 

The molten warmth of it is incredible, the wet stroke of Yuu’s tongue as it swirls over and around his cock makes Asahi’s toes curl. Yuu tightens his lips and sucks, then runs his tongue under the head and bobs forward to take as much of Asahi’s cock into his mouth as he can. He reaches up and strokes the rest with his hand, sparing an occasional fondle for Asahi’s aching balls. 

He’s so hard. Between the striptease and the alcohol and the _second_ striptease, he’s got very little stamina left. “Yuu… please… nnh, I’m – oh,” he pants into it as Yuu cups his balls, his tongue stroking fast now. 

Then he’s pulling away, is standing and smiling like a sun god bestowing his bounty as he slips his hands beneath the waistband of his shorts and pushes them down. “This is for only you, Asahi-senpai.”

Asahi nearly comes. Yuu’s cock is fat and swollen, not as big as Asahi’s but sizeable considering his stature. He climbs forward and locks his hips against Asahi’s. “My hand’s too small, senpai,” he moans, looking up beseechingly, cheeks pink and eyes dark. Asahi’s heart is racing a mile a minute, his lungs raw, but he reaches down and takes both their cocks together in his hand, stroking. 

The feel of his arousal, his erection sliding against Yuu’s is amazing, is phenomenal. Yuu’s panting as he grinds his hips forward, bouncing into the rhythm Asahi sets, hungry for more. He leans up and kisses Asahi – it’s messy and awkward, all lips and teeth, but it lights a fire in Asahi’s gut that feels like it will never be extinguished. He lifts Yuu and turns them both, slamming the libero down into the bed and grinding his hips down on top of Yuu’s, still stroking their cocks. Yuu’s panting steadily, his arms around Asahi’s shoulders, his head thrown back. “Asahi… fuck… _fuck_.”

The sensation is slick and hot and tight, his flesh stroking Yuu’s, their bases grinding together. He reaches a pre-come slicked finger back behind Yuu, slides it between his cheeks to stroke over his hole; Yuu’s body jolts and he moans. Then Asahi’s sliding it in, stroking his cock and his hole at the same time, touching him everywhere he ever wanted to – fulfilling every dark, horny teenage dream. 

“Asahi.. I’m gonna… I’m… aah!” Yuu sucks in a breath and comes, entire body convulsing, his ass tightening over Asahi’s finger as he shoots off over his naked chest. The feel of his orgasm is too much for Asahi who bears down and, with a gruff gasp, comes too. 

He collapses onto his side, experienced enough to know not to crush Yuu, and they lie curled together for several minutes. “You really liked it, didn’t you?” asks Yuu quietly, his fingers tightening over Asahi’s where they’re curled low on his belly.

Asahi makes a wordless sound of assent.

“We can do it again, you know. Just the two of us, I mean. Of course.”

“Back then I just wanted you. Now I have you. We should stick to now,” replies Asahi. “Although…”

Yuu turns to look at him, grinning. “Don’t worry. I’m keeping the uniform.”

END


End file.
